Crosses
by B. Banana
Summary: Complete, shonen-ai, Vik/Flik. We all have our crosses to bear, but what is Flik's? A blizzard and a card game trudge up dark memories.


__

"Crosses"

Or, _"Everyone else has an angsty past, why can't Flik have one, too?"_

NOTE: This takes place after the events in "I Don't Want Your Love" but before the events in Suikoden II or "Half Past One."

DISCLAIMER: Suikoden and all characters therein are copyright of Konami, if not their creator, whom, sadly, is unknown to me. I do not own Flik or Viktor, also much to my dismay, but we all have our problems, do we not? However, I do own Aawren, Taks, and Ilzor, however meager that may seem it still means something to me.

WARNINGS: Dark, darker than my usual work. Shonen-ai, usual stuff. Swearing, perhaps more than usual, and the violence/gore factor is here. So without further ado, I present the story:

+++

If the sun had been shining Viktor was sure that the landscape would have been breath taking. But as it was, he could barely see ten feet in front of him, the eerie mixture of snow and darkness rendering visibility to almost zero. He needed to finish chopping the wood before he went back inside, however. They were almost out and Flik, for some stupid reason, kept the fire blazing twenty-four hours a day and refused to take one step out into the chilly weather. The man simply did not function in the cold.

Viktor sighed, leaning heavily on the axe. His breath fanned out and away from him, disappearing into cooler tendrils of air. Though the snow and wind bit viciously at his poorly protected skin, Viktor enjoyed the storm. It made him feel insignificant and small to see the blizzard rage on about him, and as odd as it was, that comforted him. Of course, Flik would say that he was a crazy idiot, if he got far enough outside to be within speaking distance. Honestly, he had lived in Toran for upwards five years, one would think he'd be used to it by now.

Viktor shouldered the large bundle of firewood he'd cut, moving slowly but steadily towards his front door. When he entered the small cabin, he wasn't surprised to see Flik curled up on the bed with more furs on him than a herd of bon-bons. Only his face was visible, a lethargic, yet slightly annoyed look capturing his strong features. He shrank back further into his cocoon when a blast of cold air filled the room through the momentarily open door. Viktor felt Flik's half-lidded eyes follow him across the room, moving with him as he threw the wood on the fire.

"You know," Viktor felt compelled to say, "it wouldn't be half as bad if you would move around a little."

Flik said nothing, but continued to glower at him from the blanket-laden bed. Viktor clicked his tongue; the reproving sound making the fine line between Flik's brows deepen considerably. Viktor plopped down on the bed and reached down to pull off his boots in one smooth motion. He divested himself of the rest of his clothing just as easily. Before he pulled back the covers to climb in next to the other man, he caught sight of Flik's incredulous expression. The other's blue eyes turned wide as if to say, _what is _wrong_ with you?_

Viktor just smiled, slipping between the sheets. In an instant Flik was on him, wrapping his smaller body around Viktor's in a desperate attempt to get warm. Viktor was blessing the storm and all the Gods that made it before he realized that every last inch of the other man's skin was swathed in heavy wool or linen. The blocks of ice that were his feet came to rest between Viktor's own bare calves, sucking the warmth from there, as well.

"Had I known you were going to use me for a living hot brick, I would have never tricked you into staying with me," Viktor grumbled, disgruntled, earning him a sharp jab in the ribs from Flik.

"You had damn well better be the happiest brick in Toran, for all you've put me through." Flik returned, resting his sharp chin on Viktor's chest. "You certainly are the loudest."

But Viktor had only been partially listening to Flik; his mind already turned to more pressing matters. Almost before Flik had stopped muttering, Viktor's hands were moving up under Flik's thick woolen shirt, making it only to the new pink scars on Flik's side and back before one long-fingered hand collided with the side of his head.

"It's too damn cold, Viktor, and so are your hands." Flik snapped, though he maintained his position on top of the other man.

"But it would warm you up quick," he replied, grinning lasciviously. 

"Oh, sure, but then I'll be naked and sweaty and freeze to death," the lighter-haired man matter-of-factly explained.

"That's would be if I let you cool down." Viktor said. Flik gave him a withering look before lowering his head again. He sighed after a bit. 

"I can't _stand_ it," he said fervently, rolling off the other man to his own half of the bed. Viktor watched with amusement as Flik habitually stuck his hands between his thighs so they wouldn't be cold. He wondered if the smaller man even knew he was doing it anymore.

"I wish it would just be spring again," he said wearily. "I don't understand how you could bear it, all these years."

"It's worse in Jowston. In North Window, where I grew up, we were just off of a huge lake, so we got a lot of this kind of weather. This really isn't so bad." When Flik snorted he looked over at him. "Once we had such a bad snowstorm we had to cut a hole in the ceiling just to get out." He smiled at the other's horrified glance.

"I like the idea of having two seasons better: dry and wet." Flik said stuffily. "Before I came here I had never bathed indoors before," he said. "We bathed in the rain or in a stream."

Despite the loveliness of the image presented, Viktor continued. "It's too hot and humid in the Warrior's Village. I've seen people pass out in the middle of summer."

Flik shrugged. "It was probably their own fault." Viktor could think of nothing to say to that, so the room was momentarily filled only with sound of wood burning in the hearth, until a question occurred to him.

"Say, Flik, if you enjoyed the Warrior's Village so much how come you've never returned there?"

Flik halted, visually shutting Viktor out. "I have no reason to go back there," he said, eyes warning Viktor not to press the issue. Either not noticing or not heeding the warning, he continued. "But your home and your family is there." Viktor couldn't understand, after living so many years alone, how Flik could just abandon everyone who knew him.

"I have no family," Flik muttered, rolling over so he faced away from the other man. Viktor stared at his back, a bemused look on his face. He had never thought to ask before now, but what did he know about Flik's family, anyway?

"You must have had some family. I doubt you sprang out of the ground." For a while Flik said nothing, remaining hunched over, hating the feel of Viktor's eyes boring into his back. Why couldn't he just leave it well enough alone? What business of it was his? But Flik knew that Viktor would not be deterred at this point; he had to tell him something.

"My parents died when I was ten. They went hunting and never came back," Flik said, addressing this statement to the wall, not to Viktor. The other man frowned, understanding in his own way. He'd only been a little older when he'd returned to North Window, only to see his family eating each other. But for some reason -- perhaps it was Flik's overly defensive manner -- Viktor thought there was more than what Flik was letting on. If it happened that long ago, there was no reason for him to be acting this way now. It was troubling to see him like this.

"I was taken in by my aunt and uncle, as is custom with the village. I neither came nor left on good terms with either of them. Are you happy now?" Flik continued smoothly, blankly. He had been more animated talking about the weather. Several minutes passed with only silence between them. Viktor had no idea what to say and Flik refused to talk anymore. 

Eventually Flik sighed and came back over to him, all the cold aloofness and dark memory suddenly gone from his eyes, replaced only with a deep weariness and half-resigned expression. "Even dealing with you and this god-forsaken cold is not enough to get me back there," he said.

Viktor was a little sorry for trudging up bad memories and so let the other man decide what the night's plans were. But Flik just stayed on his side of the bed, not really making an effort to do much of anything but sleep. Disappointed, but not wanting to bother the man anymore, Viktor turned away from Flik, contented just to hear him breathe for now. The fire had almost died in the hearth before Viktor finally heard Flik's breathing deepen and even out in sleep. Viktor hoped that his ghosts didn't bother him while he slept.

+++

Flik grew up in a place dominated and governed by old out-dated tradition and custom. Everything was done the way it always had been, or it wasn't done at all. From what he remembered his parents were a fairly normal couple -- different only in that his father had run away with a woman that was his own age and had born no other man's child.

It was believed in the village that older women could better handle a household, hence young men married old women and when their first wife died they took a younger one. So it wasn't uncommon for a young man to have sons as old or almost as old as himself. That was the way things were done, and after his parents died -- or ran away -- Flik was never allowed to forget the disgrace his father had been.

It was something Flik had never forgiven his father for.

From what Flik had seen in his life, what the elders believed was true. Older wives truly did run a better household. His aunt had not been a large woman, but she still managed to dominate every aspect of her family's lives, including his uncle, a worthless slip of a man.

To the marriage his aunt brought two other children, boys, twins, named Taks and Ilzor. What their mother lacked in size they more than made up for. They were only three years older than Flik, yet they dwarfed him so completely he might have been nothing beside them. Needless to say, they neither liked, nor pretended to like Flik from the very moment he arrived.

The only joy Flik got out of his life in the Village was from his true cousin, Aawren, a girl only a year his junior. Luckily for the girl, she had taken more from her father's side of the family, giving her the dainty, fine features that even the males seemed to possess. Aawren was too young to fully understand why it was the family hated Flik, only that he didn't have a Mommy or Daddy anymore. At that point, Flik had been desperate for anyone -- any warm emotion -- and even the pity of a child was enough to help fill the gaping hole is parents had left behind.

Like Flik, Aawren was a small child, though where his hair was no true color, hers was very light blonde, the shade of the lightest hairs on his head. She also resembled him about the face, much to her mother's dismay. Flik and Aawren became friends, out of necessity, if nothing else. Aawren, despite being her mother's daughter, was generally regarded as being useless because of her gender by both her mother and her father. While she might have been popular enough with the other little girls in town, Aawren preferred tagging along after Flik instead.

And Flik adored her... even though he never bothered to tell her as much. He would roll his eyes and grumble every time she started talking about boys or what dress made her look the prettiest. He would run away like any little boy when she chased after him with puckered lips or with a ring of flowers to crown him with, but in the end it would always be _"The pink... no, the pink. Of course I'm sure." _

But it also went both ways. It wasn't uncommon to see Aawren sitting idly by while Flik trained with a sword or rune, or carrying around his equipment when he wasn't using it. Of course, she was never allowed to join in, Flik had deemed it far too dangerous for her to even consider. But the two were never far apart, and after awhile, it seemed as though Aawren had never been part of her family at all, but just Flik's sister. 

Flik was teased a lot because his only friend was his cousin and a _girl_, too, especially from his older cousins. They enjoyed nothing more than tormenting the pair, never missing an opportunity to inform Aawren that she was useless and that Flik was ill-bred. The younger boy knew by the time that he was thirteen that he was strong enough to take at least one of them on, but Aawren would never let him try. She stubbornly refused to let Flik get involved with either of them, whether she was afraid of them or for him he never learned.

For the longest time, Flik had only her, and she had only him, and it was enough. But then Flik turned fifteen and saw something he shouldn't have, and everything changed.

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...hands moving over unyielding flesh... a low cry like that of a caged animal... eyes burning with shame and self-disgust and pain... but there was something else there as well... resignation, weariness...

Flik came awake with a short yell, startling in its volume in the quiet room. He stared blindly into the dark room for an endless amount of time before collapsing back onto the mattress, his own tremulous breathing now the only sound in the room. Beside him Viktor had also woken up, he glared at Flik with a confused frown on his face.

"Whass...?" Viktor croaked out, his voice roughened by sleep.

"Nothing," Flik replied hastily. He sighed and said, "go back to sleep."

While the idea did seem very welcoming to Viktor at the moment, he couldn't help but notice the sweat that beaded Flik's upper lip and the tremor in the man's hands as he reached up to wipe it away. Worried and perhaps a bit curious, he decided to probe the situation further. "It was... about your family?" he hazarded a guess.

His question earned him a harsh glare. "That's --" Flik began, but then his brow softened and he sighed again, bringing one hand up to massage the bridge of his nose. "Yeah," he mumbled. Flik got up, pulling some of the covers with him. 

Unable to contain himself further, Viktor had to ask. "What happened? Back then?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Flik snatched one of the blankets from the bed and, looking down at him apologetically, said, "I'm going to sit out in the front room. Sorry I woke you up." Viktor grunted. He resented the departure of the warm body beside more than he did getting woken up. 

Speaking of which, how was Flik going to make it out there without a fire? Viktor thought it was going to be inevitable that Flik would catch a cold and he would end up being the one playing nursemaid for a week. He frowned even as his eyes slid slowly shut. Maybe then he would be able to corner Flik and make him talk. Why couldn't he see that he would feel so much better if he would just get it off his chest? Why did he have to be so private all the time? He couldn't keep bottling things up anymore, one of these days he was just going to explode.

But Flik... Flik was just like that. There were times that Viktor took great delight in making Flik admit things that he normally would never admit. Viktor knew that it humiliated Flik to show any kind of tender emotion -- weakness, in his mind, and so Viktor didn't usually bother too much with it, except when he found necessary or amusing to do so. It was amazing Flik still stuck around. Deep down Viktor thought he must like it.

Before long, Viktor began to feel sleep pulling at him. Giving into its embrace, Viktor's last thoughts were of Flik, and of how much more comfortable he would be if the younger man were there for him to use as a pillow.

++

It was freezing in the cabin when he got up, the fire long since dead. Viktor stumbled out of bed and built it up quickly, knowing it was only a matter of time before Flik barged in and demanded to know why in all the frozen seven hells he'd let it go out last night. But when he peeked out of the bedroom he saw that Flik was still asleep, curled up into a tiny ball in one of the chairs. Hopefully, the place would heat up before he woke up.

Viktor tiptoed to their "kitchen" and quietly got to work making breakfast, his only goal to further warm the room. He set a kettle of water on to boil for coffee and wondered what to make. Ironically, it was Viktor who did all the cooking between them, because, sadly, Flik couldn't even salt water correctly. He had only tried to make something once, when Viktor had been laid up. It had ended so badly that he'd ended up having to interfere anyway, because Flik had walked away in annoyance and defeat.

By the time Viktor had prepared coffee for the both of them, Flik appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes wearily and casting dark looks about the dimly lighted room.

"Good morning, sunshine," Viktor said, looking up from the apple he had begun to peel. Flik said nothing, but took a seat across from the other man and accepted a mug of coffee when it was offered to him. After a moment's silence he set the apple down in front of Flik. Viktor himself preferred a heartier breakfast -- something that at least had substance to it. Flik complained that eating so much in the morning made him sick, so most times Viktor didn't bother making him anything. But today he took pity on the man.

"Aren't you cold?" Viktor couldn't help but ask. Flik looked at him, perhaps for the first time that day, and said, "...extremely." He sneezed on cue, almost sloshing the hot contents of the mug all down the front of his night-shirt. Flik sniffed loudly, sounding pathetic, and continued eating the apple slowly. From the kitchen's single window he could see the snow still falling, a nasty mix of freezing rain and sleet added in for good measure. It didn't look like either of them would be going anywhere today, or for a while -- the snow was halfway up to the sill by now. It didn't appear to be stopping anytime soon, either.

"Poor baby," Viktor said sarcastically. "Do you want me to take care of you?" Flik scowled at him, but decided he wasn't worth the effort so early in the morning and returned to his meager meal. Viktor sighed and turned back to the stove. His cheery humming and the occasional sniff from Flik were the only sounds that passed between them.

Viktor joined Flik at the table with his own food a while later. The younger man was still only halfway through his first cup of coffee and had barely started into the apple.

"You should have come back if you were cold," Viktor said. He poured himself a cup before beginning his breakfast. Flik shrugged. As well as being a small eater in the morning, he also didn't like to talk much, or be talked to, but Viktor prattled on regardless.

Flik got up from the table and went into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. Viktor shrugged, misinterpreting Flik's sudden departure. If his company was not appreciated, then far be it from him to offer it. He'd just stay out here, eat his meal, and...

...stare at the wall for a few hours.

"Flik!" Viktor called out, realizing all at once how bored he would be without the other man. "Hey, Flik!" Viktor went to where Flik had disappeared behind their bedroom door and waited.

"What?!" Flik returned as he stuck his head from around the door. "Can I get dressed, or do you want to watch me and make sure I don't put my shirt on backwards?" Viktor noticed the man was not wearing a shirt and he was holding his pants up with one hand.

"Now that you mention it," he said with a wide smile, "don't mind if I do." Viktor only received a grunt in response before the door slammed in his face.

"I don't even see why you're bothering. Clothes are just a formality, you know!" Viktor's voice rose in volume as he heard Flik move away from him in the other room. "After all," he continued, "it's just you and me trapped in this storm... it might last for days! What are we going to do?"

"Hey, look, I found that deck of cards you were looking for the other day," Flik said breezily, opening the door and brushing past him.

"You're kidding, right?" Viktor asked, displeasure apparent in his voice. When Flik tossed the deck at him his frown deepened. "I don't know what happened in your life to make you so cruel, but whatever it was, it must have been horrible." Viktor looked up and saw Flik's half-amused, half-teasing smile, and felt compelled to return the gesture.

"Deal the cards. Best two out of three wins."

"Oh? What do I win?" Viktor visibly picked up. Flik shrugged.

"What do you want? Besides, of course, the obvious." He stretched in just the right way, showing off only the smallest hint of skin. Viktor gave him a look.

"Peacock," he said, making Flik's smile widen. "I want you to tell me about your dream last night." Viktor said suddenly, earning a shocked look from Flik. 

"Why do you care about that?" He asked in return, discomfort written all over his face.

"Because, it's not often you wake up screaming and I'm curious as to the cause."

Flik looked as though he might deny it, but ultimately remained silent. Viktor presented him with the cards. "Now play," he said. Flik accepted them grudgingly. Viktor smiled to himself, hoping that luck was on his side today.

He'd bet it was.

+++

"Damn it! Best four out of five!"

"You set the terms, Flik, not me. Perhaps you should have taken into account what a bad card-player you are." Viktor said, leaning back smugly. Flik crossed his arms over his chest sullenly. "You cheat! I just haven't figured out how yet," he replied.

"And you never will. After all, I taught you how to play the game," Viktor said. He was sure that before the stakes had been set Flik had been planning on losing. Pity Viktor wasn't as predictable as Flik originally thought.

"So, you admit to cheating! It doesn't count." Flik proclaimed, scattering his cards on the table.

"Nice try," Viktor said. "I'm not cheating, I just deliberately taught you wrong to amuse myself."

"I hate you," Flik grumbled. He sneezed loudly and refused to look at the other man. Viktor went to collect the cards.

"Don't be a baby," he scolded. "We all lose every now and then... Some of us more than others." Flik stooped to get some of the cards that had fallen off the table. "Not you, apparently," he replied.

"No, not me." Viktor laughed, getting up. "Well, I've been up for more than four hours, so I'm going to take a nap. Care to join me?" Flik snorted. "Four hours? You're really pushing it today. I'm surprised you didn't fall asleep in the middle of the game." 

"Do you want to or not?"

"That depends on how much sleeping you're planning on doing," Flik said moodily, still pouting that he lost. Viktor stepped into his line of sight, leaning down so that they were at eye level. "Well, how talkative are you feeling? You owe me a story."

"But -- "

"You'll feel better, come on," Viktor said, leaving no room for argument. Flik stared at the other man for a long time, knowing that he couldn't refuse Viktor at least this much... he had won, after all, even if it wasn't fairly, and the other man could be quite stubborn when he wanted to be. And what else did he have to do today, but drudge up past that should have stayed where he left it, ten years ago?

Flik followed Viktor into the bedroom, mentally bracing himself. _I don't want to do this_, he thought, but was surprised to find himself beginning to talk anyway. With a quick explanation of his family and its customs, launched into a story that he had never heard aloud before.

+++

...and there it was again. Flik was sure that he'd heard it this time, a small cry, like a bird's. If it hadn't been so still with the oncoming storm, he wouldn't have heard it at all. One of the birds' nests must have fallen out of a tree somewhere outside his window, he told himself, not wanting to get out of his bed this late at night. But when he heard the sound for the third and final time, he realized it was not coming from the direction of the window, but... from inside?

For several minutes Flik argued with himself, but eventually his curiosity won out and he crept from his small bed. Padding barefoot out his bedroom and down the hallway, Flik listened closely for the sound again, though it never came. He was three doors down from his room and getting well into his cousins' chambers when he started having second thoughts. It probably just had been a bird. His imagination was running away with him again.

Flik was about to turn around and return to his room when something was thrown hard against the other side of the corridor wall. Its impact was enough to shake the wall, even in the dark Flik saw a painting turn askew. Glancing about, Flik realized it was coming from Taks's room.

No surprise, there. The older boy would often bring "guests" home, and more often than not, they left with more than they bargained for, especially the ladies. This was the origin of the sound, then. For a long time Flik and the rest of the family simply turned a blind eye to it... Teaching Taks and Ilzor not to be violent or cruel was like teaching a bird not to fly -- it was not in their nature.

Flik heard yelling in the other room, a masculine voice muffled by the layers of plaster, and then a woman, crying, whimpering, begging. Flik would have left right there -- he had already heard too much -- if he had not heard Taks's malicious laughter.

There comes a point in everyone's life when one can simply not ignore the atrocities presented before him, and one must act out. That point rapidly approaching for Flik, he bit his lip, and threw the door open hard enough to crack the plaster behind it.

And what he saw there was enough to bring him to a screeching halt.

Aawren, his little "sister" and best friend, kneeling on the floor before her brother, clutching at her torn blouse with white-knuckled fists. Her eyes, blue like his own, widened in shame and disgust and horror when she turned to look at him, while she openly groped for word that would not come.

"Another to join the party?" Taks grinned wickedly, turning from his sister to his cousin. "Don't worry, pretty boy, there's plenty to go around." 

For several, endless seconds Flik could only stare at him, his mind not wanting to comprehend what his eyes so clearly presented to him. "But... she's your sister!" Flik bit out, finding his voice at last. Aawren looked up at him pleadingly, but Flik could not stand the tortured hell in her eyes. He looked away.

"She's not my sister," Taks said hotly. "She is the daughter of your uncle, that is all." Aawren leaned over suddenly, coughing and bringing Taks's attention back to her. She wiped a line of blood from her chin and, said, "Flik, just go." She looked away, no longer able to meet his eyes. "You were the one person I hoped would never find out about all this. Go away and forget it."

"Aawren..." Flik murmured. His eyes flashed back up to Taks, instilled with a sudden cold fury. "You...!"

"Flik, _please_!" But he ignored her, walking slowly up to Taks instead. He struck out rapidly, violently, with every ounce of power he had in his body, and his punch landing dead on. The other boy's head snapped back, both of them momentarily stunned with the ferocity of the attack. Then slowly, slowly, Taks looked up, holding his bloodied, broken nose in one hand, reaching for Flik's neck with the other. Taks was strong enough to lift the small boy up with only one hand, and did so. For several breathless seconds Flik hung in the air, feet kicking to gain purchase on anything.

They eventually did with a kick planted squarely in his cousin's chest, making Taks double over and wheeze, dropping Flik to the ground. "Leave, Aawren," he barked, making his damaged throat burn with the effort. The girl remained frozen, however, staring on at her brother and cousin with an unreadable look in her wide eyes. Flik took a step towards her, the action snapping her gaze and regaining Aawren's attention back to him.

"Leave," Flik said once more. This time the girl obeyed, but with an odd mix of reluctance and relief. The second the door fell shut behind her Taks recovered, the older boy lunging at Flik with rage and hatred burning in his stupid eyes. The scuffle lasted more than a few minutes, and though they raised enough noise to wake the household, no one came. It probably would have been in Taks's favor if someone had, however; it wasn't long before Flik had the older and the larger of the two before him in a mere semblance of consciousness, his face pounded into an unrecognizable pulp.

Even though Taks was clearly defenseless before him, Flik was still having a hard time controlling himself from hitting him again. He wanted nothing more than to rip, rent, and _destroy_ this creature that had taken the only that mattered in his life and, like so much fragile glass, smashed it. Flik wanted to kill him.

But, in spite of the situation he was in, even Flik had his lines that he did not cross. It was not his place to take his life... Aawren should do it, if that would have been what she wished. It would only be through her that he continued to live. 

Still beyond human speech, Flik said nothing as he kicked Taks one last time and exited the room. However, when he was a ways down the hall he had to stop, the shaking in his legs and arms becoming to strong to continue. His hands, still curled into tight fists, shook impotently at his sides, and, when released, left bloody half-moons in their wake. His knuckles had split from the impact of bone on bone and bone on teeth, the wounds there oozing blood that dripped from his fingers on to the floor.

And yet, perversely, he smiled. Justice hadn't been served -- hadn't even come close -- but it was a start... And it had felt so _good_... But that he could do that to his own sister...Flik knew he didn't have the skill to inflict that sort of pain. Aawren --

...Where did she go? She'd been injured and Flik needed to make sure she was all right. She could not have made it out of that without at least one broken rib, and he doubted she would see a doctor. _God, if there was anymore damage on her than that..._ Flik's eyes narrowed, a deep furrow forming in his brow. He went back the way he came, giving the girl's room a quick cursory glance. He had not figured she would return there. Knowing her, she had gone to Flik's room. That was always where she went...

...when she was in trouble...

Flik took off down the hall, resenting for the first time how cut off he was from the rest of the house. It had never been a bother before now. Flik nearly collided with the door to his room in his haste to get it open. 

And froze. For an instant, he saw every detail of his room in painful, aching, _perfect_ clarity. The bare spot where the sword used to hang, the blue fibers of his threadbare rug turned black... Everything in such precise vividness Flik couldn't look away, couldn't even blink. Transfixed by the sight before him, all he could do was sink his knees, feebly clutching the door with bloody hands. It was

__

...blood! God... it was...

her body, lying at an odd angle at the foot of the bed, that he'd never forgotten. Her face, hidden from him in the soft fall of blond hair stained red. Her face, her face, he never saw her face... 

__

...it was on the ceiling!

She'd taken the sword and fallen on it.

__

God! God!!

Flik fell backwards, unconsciously pushing himself away from the ghastly sight, until he backed into a corner. He shoved a fist in his mouth, trying to stifle the wail that would never come, that was already growing in volume behind his eyes. A high keening sound coming from the back of his throat all the while.

Outside, the lightning flashed and the storm finally broke.

++

For a while neither of them spoke. Viktor didn't know what he'd been expecting Flik to tell him, but definitely hadn't been it. Across from him, Flik took a long, shuddery breath.

"And that's why I have never returned to the Warrior's Village," he said finally. "Did that answer all of your questions?"

"Yes," Viktor said, contrite, apologetic, and sorry as all hell. Flik cleared his throat. "Good," he replied.

"You didn't blame yourself, did you?" Viktor asked, remembering the moment he said it that he wasn't supposed to have anymore questions. Flik gave him a wry look but shook his head, leaning back and shifting the weight to his hands. "It was their fault -- Taks and Ilzor, my aunt and uncle... Besides, it was over ten years ago." He turned to stare out the window.

"Still..." Viktor said, frowning.

"We all have... our crosses to bear, don't we?" Flik looked back at him from the window, the tears welling in his eyes making the seem all the more clear and blue. The younger man reached up, looking surprised to feel them there.

"I didn't cry when Odessa died," he said, astonished. Viktor leaned forward slowly, pulling Flik close to him. The other buried his face in Viktor's shoulder for the simple comfort it gave him and also to hide his tears. "It was -- It was a very long, long time ago," he stammered, his voice muffled. _"And I didn't even cry at her funeral."_

"Quiet," Viktor murmured, placing a hand on Flik's back. The younger man continued to clutch the front of Viktor's shirt, tremors shaking his shoulders. Viktor was unsure whether he was actually crying or not, but it didn't matter, not really. He'd be there for as long as he was needed.

"Thank you," Flik said unexpectedly, after several minutes and he had calmed down considerably. He still hid his face from the other man, but he had released his tight hold of Viktor, merely resting against him now.

"You're welcome," Viktor replied, gazing down at the top of Flik's head. Flik looked up at him then, his eyes red-rimmed but smiling. Viktor returned the gesture, seeing in the other's eyes all that needed to be said.

++

EPILOGUE

++

"Flik! Flik! let me come lie with you!" 

He opened his door to reveal a very impatient Aawren, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Yawning, he said, "You're fourteen-years-old. Aren't you a bit too old to be creeping into my bed at night?"

"Please! let me come in!" Aawren begged, all ready to pull her sad, pathetic face. He sighed and held the door out for her. She beamed and bounced through the door. Without pausing to see if she followed, Flik crossed the room to his bed, curling up next to the wall like he always did. Aawren climbed in next to him, facing the other way.

Just as Flik was about to fall asleep again, Aawren spoke. "Are you really going to take me with you when you go on your quest?" His eyes popped open. "Yes, I said I would," he replied grumpily, muttering in his weariness.

"When are we going?" she asked.

"I don't know," he answered.

"We won't... come back, will we? You're not going to send me back?"

Flik rolled over, puzzled by her odd question. "I have no reason to return here, do you? It'll be alright. You can be my spinster sister and live with me and my wife."

Aawren giggled. "That sounds nice." She yawned. 

"And if any man tries to marry you, I'll scare him away so you'll always be my spinster sister and never have a chance at romance," Flik added. With a frown, Aawren kicked him, making her cousin wince.

"Fine, fine, I won't try and scare him away, you can do that well enough on your own."

Aawren sighed a long sigh, unable to think of a decent comeback in time. Eventually she gave up trying and smiled into the dark. Flik was good to her, despite his teasing. If he wasn't here... she would have no one and nowhere to go to.

She shook her head, banishing the dark thoughts. If Flik wasn't here, where else would he be? She relied on him so much, and he never got anything in return. Grateful tears sprang in her eyes, which she blinked back, not wanting to give Flik another reason to pick on her. "I love you," she whispered. It wasn't meant for him to hear, so Aawren was surprised when Flik looked over his shoulder and said, "I love you, too, but don't tell anyone."

Stunned, but then smiling, she said, "I won't." Flik looked away from her, burrowing deeper under the covers. Presumably, the conversation was done. Within a few moments he was asleep, the soft snores she'd grown so used to soothing her into a restful state as well.

For Flik, she could keep going. For him, she'd hold out a few more years. Because she loved him, and he took care of her. Because, just once in her life, she wanted to be there for _him_...

"Good night, Flik." But only silence answered.

++

THE END

++

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Yes, but actually, Flik just lived with his mum and dad and never had a care in the world. But what fun is that?


End file.
